There are a lot of people who don’t understand why I adore my 102 pound, excessively furry, incredibly hyper (at times), vocally boisterous, bed-hogging German Shepherd.

These are the people who have never witnessed him go from snoring unconsciousness, to alert and ready to kill anyone who might think it’s a good idea to mess with me.
We were laying here moments ago and one of my neighbors began setting off some sort of fireworks. It sounded like a gunshot. Merlin’s head snapped up and he looked to the couch to be sure I was here. Another firework went off and he got up, came to the front of the love seat, and sat down directly in front of me with his shoulders squared toward the door and window. He glanced at me once over his shoulder, his message clear: “Don’t worry Mom, I’ll protect you.”

He has calmed slightly since the first of the noise, now laying down in front of the couch but still at full alert. There will be no more sleep for him until he’s 100% positive that there’s nothing out there that could possibly harm me.
Say what you will about him, I know I do. I also know that despite all of his tedious habits, I couldn’t live without this dog. He has my back, and that’s saying a lot.